


guide on raging stars

by AgentKaz



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Brainwashing, Cyborgs, Established Relationship, Fighting, Ghosts, Liquid and Mantis snarking at each other eventually, M/M, Robots, deprogramming, just give it time, lots of cyborg and robot violence, plenty of revengeance, post-mgr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:06:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7194575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentKaz/pseuds/AgentKaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An experimental artificial intelligence, tasked with assassinating a powerful cyborg from a rival PMC, finds out it might not be as artificial as it thought. Fifteen years after their deaths, two best friends reunite to take on the world once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> how far can i take liquidmantis? 2020, apparently. buckle your seatbelts, kids, the future is dangerous.

**SYSTEMS LIVE: ALL PARTS FUNCTIONAL**  
  
With that blinking in its vision, Experimental AI LS-001 opened its eyes on command for the very first time outside of VR simulations. It blinked, moved its limbs around, and stood up as the system made various checks. Everything checked out; it was running perfectly so far.  
  
With all maintenance done, it waited patiently for orders to be given. Soon enough, a voice in its mind urged it to get ready. As if there was much more it had to do. It was already equipped with weapons: a longer, machete-type blade, as well as a shorter knife. Its superiors seemed confident that it wouldn't need more than that, and the AI had always demonstrated particular aptitude with the knife. It was glad it was able to bring it along, as strange as feeling glad about something was.

Today's mission, as it had practiced many times before in virtual reality, was an assassination.  
  
As it headed out, it passed a building with large glass windows, and it stopped upon noticing its reflection. It had never seen itself before, after all, so it was a particularly interesting sight. The VR missions hadn't given much allowance for a view of anything beyond its targets. It needed only to complete its tasks. And complete them it did.  
  
But now, it had the chance to inspect itself, and it was almost fascinating. The AI's body was was tall, muscled, made out of the usual synthetic muscle fibers and strategically placed armor plates that employees of PMCs around here had. The head was organic looking, only really obviously synthetic to one who knew what to look for, covered in mostly-realistic skin, and sported some sort of artificial blond hair. The AI didn't understand the aesthetic reasoning, but it wasn't here to reason. Perhaps it was meant to resemble a cyborg, like those employed by most PMCs. Perhaps. It was the most likely solution. A cyborg would attract much less attention than a humanoid AI that didn't seem like one, after all.  
  
The oddest thing above all, though, was that it resembled Big Boss. While LS-001 had been given an 'education' of sorts, the information in its memory banks didn't match up to what it was seeing. If it was meant to resemble Big Boss, why was the hair wrong? Why did it look like a relative, rather than the real thing?  
  
Questions were useless to an AI in its position, though, and it simply turned away to head off to its first real mission. If there was a reason for it, it hadn't been given, and it wasn't meant to know.

* * *

Finding the target had been easy enough. He was, incredibly, standing right there, not too far from his PMC's headquarters. Honestly, it wasn't even remotely a challenge. If the AI had been allowed more thought, maybe it would have realized it was too easy. But its job was the most important thing on its mind, and whether it was easy or not, it had to complete its mission.  
  
The cyborg it was tasked to destroy was bald, nondescript looking, and if it hadn't been for his clearly cybernetic body, the AI might have mistaken him for someone else. Although his body was rather skinny, designed to seem as if there was a hint of bone showing, even, the armor plating suggested a hidden strength. As did the briefing on the target that it had been given.  
  
While Iluze Security Corp (the AI's PMC's biggest rival) employed a number of strong, deadly cyborgs, this one was supposedly their best. And he'd dealt what was apparently a crippling blow to the AI's superiors. He had to be stopped. These were the orders given to the AI, and it intended to carry them out to the letter.  
  
There were many strange things about the cyborg, but the strangest thing was that he carried no visible weapons. In the VR trial runs, he'd always had weapons. The trials had given opportunity to train against every kind of weapon imaginable... but nothing for none. It had just been unprecedented. Although, perhaps, whatever he had was just concealed. It might be likely, if the cyborg had been planning for business rather than battle. Perhaps summoning up a concealed weapon would be a hell of a lot more effort than using one that could be seen.  
  
Oh well. That would just make this mission simpler. It just had to find the right time to strike. The cyborg seemed busy enough, talking to fellow cyborgs about business, most likely. Eventually, there would be a time where it could sneak in and kill, and it just had to determine when.  
  
Preoccupied by running calculations and thinking up scenarios, it didn't notice the cyborg was in two places at once until it found itself floating in the air right in front of it. In the distance, the other body crumpled a bit, a clear decoy now.

Well, shit. The VR had given no scenario even close to this.  
  
_What do we have here?_  
  
LS-001 heard the cyborg's voice inside its head, almost the exact way it heard the voices that had been giving it orders. Was he one of them? No, no. While the voice seemed almost familiar, the AI had heard nothing other than the voices of its superiors previously, and this wasn't any of them. How would it know any familiarity? But how would it be able to speak to it like that?  
  
The cyborg floated up so it was above the AI, peering down, apparently scrutinizing its body.  
  
_Eli? Is that you?_  
  
The AI tried to move its body to get away, but it was frozen in its tracks. It couldn't feel fear, not really, but this wasn't part of the mission. It had to complete its mission. It couldn't complete its mission. It was halfway to panicking and it was having trouble understanding why. Orders kept being fed into its mind, but it couldn't act on them, and the cyborg's voice was drowning them out.

It almost wanted it to drown them out.  
  
_Did they honestly send you to kill me?_  
  
Why did the cyborg seem to know it? And why the hell did he call it Eli? It didn't have a name beyond the alphanumerical designation it had been given. Either way, the AI refused to speak. Or, maybe, it couldn't speak. It had never had reason to. Could it even try? It wasn't so sure.

It wasn't so sure about anything anymore. It had a million questions, but it wasn't supposed to have questions.

The cyborg stared into its eyes, like it could see a soul if it had one. Like it was drilling into its mind, somehow. Like it was trying to connect with it. The AI had no reaction. It had no idea how to react. Why couldn't the training have covered something like this?  
  
_What have they done to you?_  
  
Well, that it couldn't really answer, could it? Not that it was answering anything else, either. It merely looked at the cyborg, and it was like it could see something like pity in its eyes. But how could it interpret something like that?

Too many questions. It couldn't handle it.  
  
_You're coming with me. Hold still._

A pause.

_Oh, right. You're doing that already._  
  
He reached out, and there was nothing the AI could do. The odd familiarity was too much. There was no logic to it. And yet, somewhere in the back of its mind the AI felt like it had been searching for this voice its whole _existence_ , even though it had only been truly completed this morning. It wanted to cry but it had no way to produce tears, and no understanding as to why. Something resembling anger seemed to flare up without logic. Before it could completely process what was happening, everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

The AI came to with an error message pulsing in its vision and no orders being fed to its mind. Pure silence surrounded it instead, at least at first. It was empty and wrong and it wasn't sure what to make of this almost state of panic. It blinked a few times and shook its head, trying to clear... something. Or unclear it. It was too clear, and that wasn't clear enough, and it didn't know what to do. Everything was wrong. Everything was--  
  
The appearance of the cyborg it was meant to kill almost startled it out of its thoughts. They were in some sort of office, decorated with expensive-looking statues and vases, the cyborg himself floating over a large desk. The AI's body was, well, tied to a chair. It was certain it could break its bonds if it felt like it, but perhaps now wasn't the time. It knew what the cyborg could do to it.  
  
Or, well, it thought it knew. At the very least, he could make it float in the air, and with abilities like that, some sort of total destruction wasn't far behind. And it had at least some kind of self-preservation instinct. Its superiors certainly wouldn't want to lose the technology, after all.  
  
Although, considering how cut off the AI felt, they already had. Would they even miss it? Were they building a new one right away? Installing a copy into an identical body to pick up where it had left off? Would they write the whole project off? It wasn't until now that it even realized how cut off it was from its superiors even back when it worked for them.  
  
Things were meant to be that way, yes, but wasn't there a problem with that? Wasn't there a problem with noticing there was a problem?  
  
Glancing around at the room it was stuck in, the AI's attention moved back to the floating figure over the desk. It took a moment for the AI to realize what was really off, beyond the silence in its mind. The cyborg that had captured it had no face. It was hard not to stare, so that's exactly what it did.  
  
From what the AI knew about cyborgs, they needed to have organic parts. Generally, if one had a completely artificial body, the head was the only organic part left. Many high-ranking cyborgs in the nearby PMCs had very little left of their original bodies, some on purpose, some out of necessity. What did that mean, then, if the cyborg could remove his face? Was he truly a cyborg at all, or was the head just a well-made replica? Was he merely a brain in a suit?  
  
Was he just human-shaped, like the AI's body? Was he... also an AI? But then why was he pretending to be a cyborg? Or was he even pretending at all? Had its superiors just fed it false information? They wouldn't do that... would they?  
  
The AI didn't like having all these questions. It wasn't meant to be questioning things. It wasn't meant to be sitting here, captured, worried about its fate, cut off from everything it knew. It was created for a purpose, and every second spent here meant it wasn't doing what it was supposed to be doing.  
  
Even though there was still that sneaking suspicion it was abandoned anyway.  
  
 _Ah, you're up._  
  
Again startled from its thoughts, the AI froze a bit. The cyborg (?) picked something up off of the desk and floated over, attaching the object to the empty spot where his face should have been. It was a mask of some sort, different from the face he had been apparently wearing earlier. It was riddled with stitches and scars and the AI found it remniscent of a human skull, almost, although an oddly decorated one.   
  
And like everything else, it was uncomfortably familiar.  
  
 _As much as I'd hate to admit it, I'm surprised. I'd written you off as gone, like all the others. It wasn't like I could feel your presence anymore. But maybe I've written us all off too soon._  
  
Perhaps the cyborg/possible AI noticed how confused the other one seemed, because he laughed lightly, crossing his legs as if he was sitting as he floated in front of it, chin resting in his hands almost playfully.  
  
 _And here I haven't even introduced myself, and I can tell those in charge of you never gave an identity to match your mission. I've amassed quite a few aliases lately, but you can call me Psycho Mantis. I know this won't mean anything to you now, but... it means something to me._  
  
Psycho Mantis. That was an interesting name. Like the codenames that used to be used by certain groups. Better than the numerical designation the AI had been given, anyway. Although something felt wrong about questioning it, there was a brief little thrill at the thought of going against its orders.  
  
Was this what it was like to be cut off?  
  
 _Can you speak?_  
  
The AI shook its head. Technically, it didn't know whether it could or not. It had never been given the orders to. Mantis frowned, reaching a hand out to touch the AI's throat. The sudden feeling of touch caused its body to stiffen in some sort of... well, it wouldn't call it a fear response, but it wasn't sure what it would actually call it.  
  
 _I doubt they wouldn't have given you the ability. If they merely wanted you to fight, they wouldn't have bothered with such an elaborate body. You look like yourself. They must have had some reason. Needed you to negotiate, to impersonate, to catch people off guard. But of course they wouldn't have given you any reason why. Why tell a tool one's secrets?_  
  
The AI just stared as Mantis brought his face close to its. That was weirdly close. It had never been this close to anyone before, not even through training.   
  
_It's alright, though. I can read minds. And you haven't got any mental shielding... on the surface._  
  
Two fingers brushed up against the AI's forehead, then, a few moments later... scarred lips did the same. The AI's eyes widened in shock, but it was oddly pleasant all the same.  
  
 _They've really got you locked up in there. I can tell it's you, but you're so far away. It's strange. Too far to connect, but you're there. That's... a start. Better than I'd thought._  
  
The AI's face was built to resemble that of a human's greatly, but the intelligence itself was apparently unable to render much in the way of dramatic movement. So it looked mildly perturbed, when it was just completely baffled by all of this. Mantis merely seemed thoughtful, pulling back.  
  
 _I wonder... what is the purpose of all this? Why bring us back, only to lock us up? Our minds' potentials are nothing without us at the forefront to guide them. If given another identity, we're stripped of what makes us ourselves. Clearly evidenced with you. And yet our bodies... they're so similar. What's their game?_  
  
It had to be a rhetorical question, because there was no way the AI was going to understand what he was talking about, let alone provide an answer.  
  
 _No one's seemed to know. So many minds, so little in the way of knowledge. Every thought I delved into gave no further clues. Either they've got it wrapped up even from the people they've got involved, or mental shielding has truly advanced. I think it's the latter, don't you?_  
  
The AI just stared.  
  
 _I thought I was the only one, but I turned out to be mistaken. Do you know what a happy mistake it was?_  
  
He paused for effect.  
  
 _You don't. Because they've got you convinced you're something else. But that isn't too much longer. I won't let it be._  
  
Mantis pressed his forehead to the AI's.  
  
 _I'm getting you out, Liquid. You can give me your undying gratitude when I'm done._  
  
There was something pulling at the AI's mind. Pulling, and pushing, and it wasn't even sure what else. Once again, everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried something a bit different to fit with the theme of this, sorry about that. things'll be normalish come next chapter, i promise.

Consciousness.

This body is far too big. It's enormous. Powerful. Terrifying. Towering. The man on the ground is the target. Two minds share this body, working in sync. Working as one.  
  
An incredible connection is made.  
  
One is more familiar with how the body works, but it trusts the other to give it the fuel it needs.  
  
They fight.  
  


* * *

  
  
This time is different, this much is obvious.  
  
Again, they fight. Again, the target is the same.  
  
Again, again, again.  
  
Pain. Physical and mental. Emotions a thunderstorm. A desire to end.  
  
A push. A pull. A sensation of floating.  
  
It's not over yet.  
  


* * *

  
  
Things become clearer.  
  


* * *

  
  
Two teenage boys enter an arcade. One is blond and dressed in a leather jacket, walking with purpose, like he owns the place. The other-- the perspective shifts to looking at the other, a small skinny goth thing with teased-up red hair, clad in an oversized black sweater torn at the shoulders. His face is covered by a gas mask. No one seems to look at the two for more than a moment or two, seeming to have more important things to do with their time.  
  
The two head over to one of the machines. The blond kid stands in front of it, nods at the other, and soon the game's up and running without anyone having put any money into it. He stands there for quite some time, some sort of game involving punching a lot of people playing out on the screen.  
  
A quick flash (of thought? memory? impatience?) and the kid is walking over to the other now, looking to see where he's gone.  
  
He's standing in front of a claw machine, sleeved hands pressed up against the glass, the claw moving apparently of its own accord.   
  
A toy-- a snake, how funny-- floats out of the prize door, between the two, and is insistently pressed into the blond one's hands.  
  


* * *

  
  
How pleasant. How odd. A sensation. What is sensation? What is this? What is--  
  


* * *

  
  
The blond teen lounges on a dumpy mattress, tossing a knife at a drawing of Big Boss taped up on the wall. The one in the gas mask floats cross-legged in the air next to him as he fiddles with an old keyboard. Whenever the knife makes its mark, it floats back to its owner so he can toss it once more.  
  
"Where d'you want to go this time?" The red-headed kid's voice is muffled by the mask, and his accent is thick, his voice high and scratchy. He doesn't sound like he talks much.  
  
"Don't know. Somewhere far. We've been too close too long." Thunk. Thunk.  
  
"I have an idea."  
  


* * *

  
  
Thoughts flicker. Things come to mind in quick succession. As if things were slowed, briefly, for one's benefit. Whose? Nothing's clearer than it's been. And yet--  
  


* * *

  
  
Times change.  
  
Time moves on.  
  
A young blond man gives a tearful goodbye, filled with promises of reuniting.  
  


* * *

  
  
Training-- infiltration-- discovery--  
  
Everything goes past in a blur until the man's mind feels like it's no longer his, not really.  
  
Anger, hatred, pain, apathy.  
  
It's years until they find him.  
  


* * *

  
  
He sulks. He rebuilds. He finds a family.  
  
He reunites with the one he cares about most.  
  
Revolution.  
  


* * *

  
  
The blond man pilots a giant machine, the target someone who slightly resembles the target from before, and resembles himself. Only this time he's got nothing but his own rage to assist him, and the man is much different.

 

* * *

  
It's not over yet.  
  


* * *

  
  
The blond man dies of a heart attack in the snow, alone in his mind.  
  


* * *

  
  
It's not over yet.  
  


* * *

  
  
The blond man forces a body that's not his own to bend to his will. Screaming, pain forces him out.  
  


* * *

  
  
_It's not over yet._   
  


* * *

  
  
The blond man wakes up, screaming.


	4. Chapter 4

_Now that you've destroyed most of my audio sensors, how are you feeling?_  
  
Mantis floated next to the AI, a slightly amused look on his face, or at least that's what it looked like. Waking up so suddenly had left the intelligence disoriented, unsure of what it was supposed to be, what it was supposed to think.  
  
It thought it knew. It wasn't supposed to think, not in any way that'd go against its creators, anyway. It was supposed to follow its programming, so where the hell did those thoughts come from? It ignored Mantis for the time being, or attempted to, anyway, trying to process the whole ordeal.  
  
It wasn't programmed for this situation. Being an intelligence, you'd think it was meant to think, but all it was doing was confusing itself.  
  
The AI-- no.  
  
No, he wasn't an AI, was he?  
  
That's where the true problem was.  
  
That's where the confusion came from.  
  
It-- he? had the robotic equivalent of a headache, and everything felt disjointed, but he just knew. He wasn't an AI. He was... he was the blond man.  
  
That dream, that vision-- those were his memories. They had to be. They didn't quite fit into his mind, or whatever the hell he'd been fed in the way of memories in the first place, but he couldn't ignore a vague sense of familiarity beyond the fact that he'd seen them. If he'd been created only recently, put into VR simulations before going out on his first mission, how would he be getting a sense of deja vu from any of that?  
  
The man-- what had Mantis called him earlier? He couldn't remember, the barrage of thoughts was too overwhelming, but it didn't matter right now, because he wasn't an AI. It was hard to believe. It was hard, but he had to believe it, because why would he even have memories if he was artificial?  
  
It was hard to break out of the train of thought. Even as he was struggling to remember, the planted persona still tried to fight with the memories coming through.  
  
And while he'd remained silent at the question, Mantis still floated next to him patiently.  
  
He looked at Mantis, staring at him hard. He was in those memories. They'd known each other. Cared for each other. But within the disjointed fog of those thoughts, no matter what they jogged him out of, he couldn't figure out how it all fit together.  
  
"I... don't know," he said, finally. His eyes widened a bit, like he couldn't believe he was speaking, couldn't believe he was hearing his own voice.  
  
It sounded wrong, somehow, but good enough. Close enough. He had a voice.  
  
_Well, we're closer than we were when we started here, aren't we? I told you I'd get you out._  
  
He might have laughed at Mantis's gentle ribbing if he hadn't been so preoccupied by his confusion. Instead, he just looked at him, looking slightly distressed.  
  
He couldn't stop going back over the things he'd seen.  
  
Something had happened. He'd... he'd died. He saw that. He tried to take over someone else's body. Someone familiar. But then he'd been cast out, and that was the end of that. The visions had just ended. He woke up, slowly coming to the realization of who he was. He was still waking up.  
  
Obviously, he had a long way to go.  
  
"...What the hell did they do to me?" It must have been disuse that made his voice sound subtly wrong, or maybe the creators of this body couldn't get things right, but he couldn't dwell on it.  
  
_A long story, and we should save most of the details for when you're better adjusted. But it's the same thing they did to me. We died, all those years ago. But they managed to keep us around in some form. They gave us new bodies, and new identities to go with them. Repressed our memories so they could use us. I broke free, and that's what I'm here to help you do._  
  
A gentle push at his mind, something familiar layered over something foreign, and whatever it is, it didn't get through. Perhaps on purpose.  
  
_You're conflicted. Your mind keeps resisting me. I can read you, but I can't get in the way I used to._  
  
"I still feel it. I know I'm not... that. But it's still in there."  
  
_It takes time to get back from it. It took me a long time, and I had to figure everything out alone. You'll have me to help, at least._  
  
"Right. What did you say my name was?"  
  
_Liquid. Liquid Snake. Or Eli, but you've only ever let me call you that._  
  
Liquid. That sounded about right. Especially not letting anyone else call him that other name. It was already leaving something of a bad taste in his mouth. At this point, that had to be a good sign. Another patch of remembrance.  
  
"And that was us, in those thoughts?"  
  
_It was. I thought bringing our shared memories out might help things along. I can't say I expected so much shouting._  
  
"So, are you going to untie me yet?"  
  
Mantis laughed, and Liquid found the ropes loosening. He helped push them off, flexing his arms, noticing just how different his body was to the one he had in the memories. The artificial nature was going to take some getting used to, but so was everything.  
  
Despite his programming, he found he truly had no desire to kill the man in front of him, even though he had something of a chance now. Well, no, desire wasn't quite the word. There was still part of him that wanted to carry out his mission. But with the lack of orders being fed into him, and everything he'd learned, he could push that aside easily enough.  
  
But if one wasn't an AI, could they really be programmed? Liquid thought back to the AI personality, what little of one there was. Still layered over his own, or what remained of his own, it mostly just made his almost-headache worse.  
  
And even worse was the fact that there was something unmistakably pushing at his mind, not just trying to read his surface thoughts. And he couldn't figure out how to let it in.  
  
"That's you?"  
  
_That's me._  
  
"I'm trying."  
  
_Take your time. They won't figure out where I've taken you for some time, I'm sure._  
  
It was hard pulling himself from the programming. Liquid felt Mantis's mind constantly trying to connect with his, but things had changed too much. He wasn't the man he used to be, couldn't remember everything, couldn't coordinate his memories with who he was.  
  
Soon. He'd make things work soon.  
  
But he'd seen the thoughts. He could feel Mantis pushing at his mind. He could see the way Mantis slowly got closer to him, like he was hoping for something more in the way of recognition.  
  
Liquid was hoping for more too.  
  
Eventually, their fingertips touched. Liquid's memories might have still been spotty, his sense of identity still unstable, but there was something that almost felt _right_ about their proximity.  
  
Liquid reached out, and their fingers entwined, resulting in something of a particular rush of recognition. Like the rush of memories he'd experienced. For the first time in far too many years, they held hands. They were the wrong hands, hands created for a purpose neither of them wanted, but it didn't matter in the end.  
  
They'd work on this, Liquid would break free like Mantis did, and then those responsible would have something to answer for.  
  
Mantis squeezed Liquid's hand, and Liquid offered him a grin that looked something like normal.  
  
They'd already made some damn good progress. How hard could it be?


End file.
